


Now or Never

by revamped



Category: High School Musical (Movies)
Genre: Brother-Sister Relationships, Canon Compliant, F/M, How Do I Tag This, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Ridiculous stuff, post-HSM3, probably more as I continue working tbh, relationship building, ryan being a ridiculous person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-03-14
Packaged: 2018-01-15 16:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1311115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revamped/pseuds/revamped
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'The problem though, Ryan realizes, is that he’s very, very bad at recognizing his own problems or solving his own kind of crisis.'</p><p>AKA the time that Ryan's relationship blew up in his face and he was more concerned about Chad's existence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 100% unbeta'd but will fix up and pretty later. 
> 
> Beast of a project, so far 10K as of 3/13/14 and will be continuing. Also will have accompanying piece later down the road.

It’s 12:47am when Ryan stumbles back to the dorm after the mid-season wrap party for his show. It’s his first show that he’s helped choreographed on his own since coming to Juilliard in the fall and with Thanksgiving break around the corner he’s more than excited to tell everyone back in Albuquerque just how well it went.

Before he can tell everyone back home though, Ryan knows he has to come back to tell Sebastian. Sebastian had been anticipating the wrap party with everyone else from the theater (if only because he, like Ryan, never thought about the concept of a mid-season wrap party on top of a real wrap party), but at the last minute had come down with a headcold so awful Ryan had fled the room in fear of catching it himself.

The party’s probably still going back at the theater. When Ryan had left booze had been flowing, music had been pounding and the chatter had filled the half-empty hall. He was among his favorite kind of people and it was in that moment that he felt infinite.

When Ryan had first arrived at Juilliard he had began to wonder if this was really where he belonged. There was a short period of time that Ryan really paused and thought to himself if he had made a mistake, if the scholarship committee had made a mistake by offering him the chance to attend the most prestigious arts academy in the country. He knew his choreography was good. That wasn’t the question. He knew he fit into the city life. That wasn’t the question either.

No. The problem initially had been that Ryan had left behind every single friend he had managed to make in the last two years, which were more friends than he had ever had in his entire life.

Thank god for Kelsi. Without his fellow Wildcat Ryan was fairly certain just attending the mandatory orientation would have sent him running back to New Mexico with his tail between his legs. But through orientation he started meeting people and through people he started making friends and through friends he had met Sebastian just after Labor Day weekend.

Sebastian comes from a musical background, too. Sebastian understands just what kind of rigorous schedule Ryan had been on previously back at East High with rehearsals and late nights and rewrites after rewrites. Sebastian, however, has an air of confidence that Ryan admires; something sort of bossy and arrogant and yet still friendly and approachable. 

Ryan isn’t sure what it is that initially attracted him to Sebastian, but just two weeks into the semester he has a boyfriend.

It’s 12:53am when Ryan runs up the stairs and approaches Sebastian’s dorm room, a plate of food in one hand to share with the other boy and room keys in the other.

It’s 12:54am when Ryan walks in on Sebastian on top of a boy with dark hair, bright eyes and a mouth that’s just opened to let out a cry of Ryan’s boyfriend’s name. Ryan stands in the doorway for a brief moment, tilting his head to watch the display before him and examining the animated silhouettes in the dark. 

_‘One way to cure a cold, I suppose.’_

It’s 12:55am when Ryan flips on the overhead lights, flooding the small room in a wash of yellow that causes Sebastian to flip around and stare at Ryan. The boy under Ryan looks up, peering around Sebastian’s shoulder to stare at Ryan as well.

“I thought you said you were single,” the boy says, sounding much angrier than Ryan can even bring himself to feel.

“…he is.” Ryan steps forward, dropping the plate of food on the bedside table before grabbing his overnight bag from the floor. Sebastian’s not quite moving to pry himself off of the other boy but his eyes follow Ryan around the room, mouth struggling to pick an expression. Ryan watches from the corner of his eye, noticing the way Sebastian’s emotions flip from shock to anger to annoyance to fear to confusion and settling on apologetic.

“Ryan. Ry, baby, we can talk about this, right?” 

“Have a good break, ‘Bastian,” Ryan says without looking back, exiting the room and shutting it behind him with a loud bang. He pauses in the hallway then, racking his brain for a moment as he stares at the white board on the door across the hall. 

He should be angry. He should be furious. He should be screaming and crying and demanding answers from Sebastian, asking who the hell he thought he was to be screwing around with someone else on the most important night of Ryan’s career (so far) and begging to understand why he wasn’t enough after only three months.

But he isn’t. He’s not sure why, exactly, but he can’t even bring himself to feel anything more than annoyance that he had walked all the way to Sebastian’s dorm when his was on the other side of campus. He can hear the ticking of his Rolex loud in his ears as the seconds click by, can hear the voices of Sebastian and the other boy (Blaine. His name’s Blaine, he remembers) arguing through the door, can hear stray laughter and shouting from outside in the streets of New York City. 

The red dry-erase marker hanging from the whiteboard is too tempting and he practically lunges forward, seizing the pen and uncapping it before stopping again. Ryan has never been much for spontaneity. He had grown up always having a plan, or at least always following a plan. He had his whole life planned down to a T, and he had reworked that plan to fit Sebastian in it.

_‘Stupid, really.’_

He carefully erases a stray note, fairly certain that Becky no longer needed to meet Jordan in the library four days in the past. He lets his brain relax, filling in words that he knows aren’t truly his, words that he probably shouldn’t have overheard in the first place. He writes with a flourish and recaps the pen. Letting it drop against the wooden door with a soft knock, he shoulders his backpack and walks down the hallway without looking back to exit the dorm and leaves Gabriella’s words embossed on the whiteboard for Sebastian to see when he exited his room in the morning.

_We might find our place in this world someday, but at least for now I’ve gotta go my own way._


	2. Chapter 2

It’s 1:27am and Ryan’s still not entirely sure how he found himself outside of Gate A15 at JFK airport.

Oh, right. After leaving Sebastian’s dorm he was seized with another fit of spontaneity and hailed a cab, hardly surprised how easy it was to catch one at 2am on a Thursday night/Friday morning. The driver asked where he wanted to go, and for a moment Ryan wasn’t sure how to respond.

Where _was_ he supposed to go? Thanksgiving break doesn’t even start until the following Wednesday. He still has three days of classes, but that apparently matters very little at the present moment. It’s almost as though someone else has possessed his body as his mouth opens and says to take him to the airport.

He didn’t _think_ he was that drunk, but that didn’t explain three things.

1\. He still isn’t entirely sure how to feel about the fact that his boyfriend had cheated on him.  
2\. He only has enough clothing to get him by for one night.  
3\. He now possessed a plane ticket back to Albuquerque five days prior to his original departure date. 

These are things Ryan ponders on as he sits in a chair near his departure gate, backpack between his feet and trilby precariously balanced on his head. A glance at the clock tells him it’s only 11:30pm in New Mexico, and a glance at his phone tells him that it is, in fact, still Thursday there. 

_'It’s Thursday. Thursdays means that her drama club meeting should have dismissed at 8:30pm which means she met up with Jake for a late dinner at 9 which means she went back to his place by 9:30 which means their movie finished at 11 which means she should be walking back to the sorority house right now.'_

When you’re a twin, there are just certain things that you’re stuck with for the rest of your life. You’re stuck sharing a birthday with someone else. You’re stuck vying for the attention of your parents because your other half is busy doing exactly the same thing. You’re stuck as a package deal everywhere you go. And you’re stuck sharing an almost psychic bond and more secrets and details than you could ever possibly want to know about any singular person including what they’re doing every single minute of every single day.

But if he’s honest about it, Ryan doesn’t mind that much.

Sharpay and Ryan have never been apart for longer than two weeks at a time since the day they were born and that’s the way Ryan (usually) likes it. As the twins got older and their interests and groups of friends started to waver there was a bit of a snag. Junior year was the first time they really faced the problem of Sharpay-and-Ryan trying to be Sharpay and Ryan. Junior year was the first time that Ryan started to question if he wanted to be Sharpay’s other half, Sharpay’s shadow, Sharpay’s second, for the rest of his life. The summer between junior and senior year gave him a taste of what it was like to have other friends and it showed him a world where people liked him for him and not for being an Evans twin. That summer he realized that as much as he loved his sister, well, he liked having friends. He liked giggling and gossiping with Gabriella while she worked her shifts as a lifeguard at Lava Springs. He liked spending afternoons lounging on Kelsi’s piano listening to her play a variety of classical pieces. He liked the games of baseball that he played with the other Wildcats (though, truthfully, that had only been once. But he’s sure he would have liked it if it had been more than once.) Most of all though he liked being recognized for something that Sharpay didn’t have a direct hand in.

Sharpay wasn’t entirely thrilled, but by the time senior year started she was over it and they were back to being Sharpay-and-Ryan, destined to be stars and take over the world.

And then the Senior Spring Musical happened. The Senior Spring Musical was when everything came to a head. Sharpay had held it together well enough when Ms. Darbus announced that Ryan and Kelsi had been selected to receive the Juilliard scholarships and that Sharpay would be attending UA. She had smiled and looked proud and behaved in the utmost display of maturity that Ryan had ever seen on his sister.

That had changed entirely when they returned home to their private quarters. It was the first time the twins had ever really, truly fought about anything. Ryan was talented, no doubt. Both twins were.

_‘Do you really think you can handle New York alone, Ryan? You’re going to be eaten alive without me!’_

Needless to say, they didn’t speak for nearly two weeks until she had apologized. Needless to say, Ryan tried not to think about it too much (even though he was almost convinced Sharpay was right for the first three weeks.) 

Nevertheless the fight and the distance had actually made the twins closer and they were more joined at the hip than ever. They knew each other’s schedule, they texted each other the same thoughts, and their scheduled SBSCs (Sunday Brunch Skype Calls) kept them updated with whatever couldn’t be said through text or email.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Ryan debates calling her. This wasn’t the type of thing to be said over text, is it? Perhaps he should have thought this through better, but another glance at the clock tells him that his plane will be boarding in ten minutes.

Text it is.

_ss rybastian has sunk btw_

Short, sweet, to the point. “Rybastian” was the name Sharpay had come up with when she realized her brother had found someone else to spend all of his free time with. Ryan has learned not to question Sharpay when she gets into one of her stranger moods. Nearly five minutes pass before a chirp alerts him that his sister has responded.

**what. what do you mean ss rybastian has sunk ss rybastian wasn’t supposed to sink ryan what happened?**

_just sunk. actually it crashed into an iceberg and killed every single person on board. no survivors, not even a molly brown._

**okay no wait there’s something you’re not explaining i just saw the facebook pictures you guys posted two days ago a ship like that doesn’t just SINK RYAN!!!**

The intercom above his head announces that Ryan’s flight will now begin boarding. Unsurprisingly, the redeye out of New York going to New Mexico is practically empty. He’s settled into his seat within three minutes and it gives him three minutes to think about how to answer Sharpay. No. A ship like that doesn’t just sink, does it? He knows exactly what pictures she’s talking about because he’s the one who posted them. Sebastian’s birthday party had been the second weekend of November, the weekend prior to the current one, and though a lot of pictures had already been uploaded Ryan felt it was his obligatory duty as the birthday boy’s boyfriend to post the ones he had taken. If he were an outsider looking into his relationship, he would have thought that he and Sebastian looked really adorable together, not to mention really happy.

Of course, there were a lot of pictures of Sebastian without Ryan, too, but hardly any pictures of Ryan without Sebastian. It’s a strange phenomenon now that he looks back upon it. 

_there are just some ships that sink faster than you’d think that seem unsinkable. remember Brennifer? or Justin and Britney? all great ships that crashed and burned without warning. even Ashton’s had some unsinkable ships sink._

**yes but you are not ashton kutcher! you’re ryan evans who’s not supposed to have sinkable ships especially not with guys like sebastian laplante!**

_you seem mad :P_

**i AM mad!!! who the hell does he think he is for breaking my brother’s heart?**

_who said that he broke my heart?_

**you’re texting me at 1:30 in the morning, what would you call it?**

_gotta go, my plane’s getting ready to take off_

**your plane?  
** **ryan?**  
 **ryan.**  
 **RYAN EVANS ANSWER ME. WHAT ARE YOU DOING ON A PLANE AT 1:30 IN THE MORNING WHERE ARE YOU GOING?**

Ryan doesn’t answer any more of Sharpay’s texts. He knows with enough time she’ll piece together the puzzle herself and she’ll be online checking all of the flights coming out of JFK and entering Albuquerque. They always fly on the same airline when they travel and he knows that as soon as she tracks down his flight she’ll be calculating the time his plane will land. As soon as she knows the time she’ll pull up outside of the airport waiting for him and they’ll go get breakfast and she’ll demand he give her all of the details of why he and Sebastian broke up…

…and really, it isn’t a conversation he’s looking for. It’s not much of a secret that he’s looking forward to seeing his sister. She flew out to visit him in late September and she had met Sebastian then, but they haven’t seen one another since then. He’s excited to see Sharpay. He’s less excited to scramble for answers to a question he was hoping _Sharpay_ would be able to answer herself.

Ever since Ryan could remember Sharpay had always been the more emotional of the two of them. She had always been the one to cry first, always the one to overreact first, and always the one to lose her temper first. Ryan never really had to feel anything because Sharpay felt enough for the both of them. Sometimes he found himself upset about problems that weren’t even his simply because Sharpay was upset. Sometimes he felt unexplainably giddy and he would learn it’s because he and Sharpay got the lead role in something and she learned about it before he did. (Things got really, really freaky when they had reached puberty and Ryan started feeling Sharpay’s PMS symptoms. Luckily, since then he’s been able to mostly block those out.) It was part of being a twin just like reading each other’s moods and minds was a part of being a twin. Trying to explain it to anyone who wasn’t them was nearly impossible and so eventually the pair of them stopped trying. They had clung to each other and had relied on only each other until junior year when Troy and Gabriella single-handedly tore down every single social clique that belonged to East High School.

The way Ryan sees it is like this. Preparing himself for this visit with Sharpay is actually no different than preparing himself for a show. He has to set the mood. He has to be in the right mindframe. Sharpay is going to be expecting him to be upset and baffled and angry and right now all he feels is a little nauseated from the alcohol and a little too awake for comfort. As the captain and flight attendants announce their departure and as the plane backs away from the terminal, he shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath to center himself.

_‘Sad. Think sad. You’re sad that Sebastian cheated on you. You’re sad that your first real relationship blew up in your face. You’re sad that no one is on this side of the country to comfort you. Think Avril. Think Demi. Think Britney.’_

It’s not until they’re 10,000 feet in the air that he plugs his headphones into his iPhone, skipping through his selection of music trying to find the saddest ones possible. If he can cry before he lands, he can at least sell the performance well enough. 

_“It’s nice to know you were there, thanks for acting like you cared and making me feel like I was the only one. It’s nice to know we had it all, thanks for watching as I fall and letting me know we were done.”_

Not quite.

_“Somewhere we went wrong, we were once so strong, our love is like a song, you can’t forget it.”_

Still not right.

 _“From the bottom of my broken heart, there’s just a thing or two I’d like you to know…”_

Still no.

_“Don’t tell me you’re sorry ‘cause you’re not, baby, when I know you’re only sorry you got caught…”_

Instead of depressing him like he had hoped, the songs are only further frustrating him and nagging at him with the unanswered questions. Why isn’t he more upset about this breakup than he is? It not that he didn’t love Sebastian.

…perhaps love was a bit of a strong word. He did (does?) care deeply for him though and that alone should have been enough to strike emotional distraught into his heart. It’s not though. It barely registers.

 _‘Maybe I’m in shock,’_ he decides, pausing all music and returning to his main library. _‘Maybe I’m still in such shock that Sebastian cheated on me that it hasn’t registered and I’m just really numb. Maybe when I land and when I talk to Sharpay it’ll hurt and I’ll be upset and everything will be right in the world so we can start the healing process of Phish Food, Barbra Streisand musicals and finding men that are better-looking than the last ones.'_

It was a ritual he had started with Sharpay back when Troy Bolton had still been the object of his sister’s affections. Thankfully she had moved on from the Wildcats’ star basketball player during the latter half of their senior year and seemed to have found someone new at UA. He’s heard a lot about Sharpay’s new boyfriend. He knows his schedule at this point, too. But he hasn’t met the guy yet. 

_‘Focus, Ryan,’_ he scolds himself. _‘This is about you and your boyfriend…ex-boyfriend. Not Sharpay’s.’_

In the end he decides he can’t exactly force himself to be sad this early in the morning and hopes that Sharpay will be too tired to bother him about the matter until later in the morning when he can gather himself and understand the situation better. He flips through the music on his iPhone, pressing on random songs that seem fun and interesting. Every two months or so Ryan deletes all of the music on his phone (except for his favorites from musicals, of course) and reloads the device with brand new music he’s never heard before. It’s usually music that has unique titles, artists that look interesting, or music he knows his friends are currently listening to. Though he’ll be the first to admit that he doesn’t always understand his peers’ tastes, he’s also loosened up quite a bit in the last year or two and is more willing to try it at least.

This month’s selection so far doesn’t hold his attention for very long. He skips past songs from several bands he only has lukewarm feelings for and some bands he doesn’t care for at all, and he’s about to say screw it and put on the soundtrack for Wicked when he clicks on a song he’s pretty sure he didn’t load on his own.

_“Work it, make it, do it, makes us harder, better, faster, stronger—“_

He blinks at the device before he breaks into laughter. Troy or Chad. It had to be one of them who sent him the music file and he had loaded it without listening to it first. Who else would recommend him a song with a strange beat and even worse lyrics?

Chad, he decides, is the culprit. Gabriella has slowly been infecting Troy with her own tastes in music and Ryan has noticed that the athlete has been recommending more Top 40s artists to him than usual. This was definitely one of Chad’s. _‘Probably something from one of his workout playlists,’_ he muses to himself, fingers idly tapping to the beat of the music.

He pushes the thought out of his mind then, leaning his head against the window and wrapping his jacket tighter around his body as nimble fingers reach out to fiddle with the buttons on the phone’s glass screen. He adjusts the volume and he presses the back arrow, restarting the song as he shuts his eyes. He had booked a non-stop flight back home, but it was still a five hour journey.

_“Work it, make it, do it, makes us harder, better, faster stronger. Now that don’t kill me can only make me stronger, I need you to hurry up now, ‘cause I can’t wait much longer…”_


	3. Chapter 3

October 16, 2008 10:54pm  
 **Ryan Evans (crowdfavorite@gmail.com)**  
To: Chad Danforth (getchaheadinthegame@gmail.com)  
Subject: Freaking Out Without The Sparkles

First of all I hate typing your email address every single time. You know it’s ridiculous, right?

Anyway…hi! Sorry I didn’t reply to your last email, things have been really busy. Congrats on the victory! I’m so proud to know you got to play a whole five minutes before you were benched again. Hm. Was that mean? You know I’m teasing.

Things are really crazy here and I LOVE IT! It just leaves little room for socializing outside of my classes. You wouldn’t believe how hard some of my classes actually are. I know you think all I’m doing is prancing around all day but I AM actually getting a degree in something. I have to take Liberal Arts courses on top of my dance classes and do you have any idea how time-consuming my dance classes are? I guess I like to stay busy. And I must be even crazier because outside of my classes I signed up for a show with the theater. I’m not acting though if you can believe that. I’m choreographing! My first real choreographing experience that isn’t at East and it’s not just MINE, I mean I’m doing it with someone else, but it’s still something…

…and I’m freaking out. Majorly freaking out. I think you might be the only person who would understand. You know how you were telling me how some of the guys on the Redhawks are really good basketball players? Surprise, EVERYONE HERE IS A REALLY GOOD DANCER. EVERYONE. I was the best at East and now I have this job where I can’t let people down and yeah, I’m freaking out. Intimidated? Maybe intimidated is a good word because I keep thinking maybe I should focus on my classes instead. I don’t know what I’m doing. I NEVER don’t know what I’m doing. Am I in over my head? I have no idea and it scares me. There, I said it. I’m going to spend the next ten weeks busting my ass and simultaneously freaking out.

As for your other question? Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be home for Thanksgiving, but I’m not leaving until the day before and I have to head back here Sunday. It’s almost pointless, but I’m making it work. It’ll be nice to see a few familiar faces, hopefully. 

Good luck in the next game! Colorado, right? I’ve been watching the scores online but I’ve been too swamped to watch the televised games. Let me know how it goes.

Ryan

October 16, 2008 11:20pm  
 **Chad Danforth (getchaheadinthegame@gmail.com)**  
To: Ryan Evans (crowdfavorite@gmail.com)  
Subject: “stop, swing”

Evans, you’re freaking out over nothing. I’ve seen you dance. I’ve DONE some of your dances, remember? You got game. I’m sure whatever you do won’t be as bad as you think it is. Don’t be your sister. 

I get it though. Some of these guys run circles around me all the time. But I’m good. Really good. Most freshmen don’t even get to leave the bench for the first year on the team, just like I’m sure most freshmen don’t get to help choreograph a winter show. Get it? Don’t stress so much or you’ll get wrinkles in that pretty little face of yours. Sorry, was that mean? Hahaha.

Thanks man. I didn’t even know you were keeping track. Oh hey, Troy’s having this thing over break at his house, like a mini Wildcats reunion or something (I think it was Gabi’s idea actually so I wouldn’t be surprised if you and Kelsi already knew) but you should come if you can. Friday night after Thanksgiving. It’d be good to see you.

PS stop signing your name at the end of your emails. I think I can figure out that Ryan Evans is emailing me from Ryan Evans’ email address.

PPS if you don’t want to type my whole address then maybe you should like, I don’t know, add me to your address book? 

October 16, 2008 11:41pm  
 **Ryan Evans (crowdfavorite@gmail.com)**  
To: Chad Danforth (getchaheadinthegame@gmail.com)  
Subject: “You Make a Good Pitch But I Don’t Believe” 

Maybe you’re right. A lot of my friends in my composition classes weren’t even asked to perform in the show, much less help choreograph it. I’ve got this. Okay? Okay. 

…nope, still freaking out! Nice try though, I appreciate it. Maybe I’ll be a little more calm when I get back into town for break. I’m sure I’ll have a few stories for you at least. Also yours was a LOT meaner than mine, I’m not going to get wrinkles. Evanses are immune to wrinkling! 

I’ve got a running tally with Sebastian about who’s making the playoffs. So far I’m winning, but it helps that I know more about basketball than he does. Being EHS’s mascot paid off. As for Troy’s thing? Sure. I didn’t know about it but I haven’t talked to Gabriella for a few weeks. I think there’s an email from her buried in my inbox somewhere though that probably explains a lot. Kelsi and I will be there and you know Sharpay will come, too. It’s not a bad idea. 

Ryan 

PS I will do whatever I want.  
PPS You ARE in my address book, I still have to type the whole thing. 

October 16, 2008 11:47pm  
 **Chad Danforth (getchaheadinthegame@gmail.com)**  
To: Ryan Evans (crowdfavorite@gmail.com)  
Subject: “if I could do this well you could do that” 

Ryan. You’ll. Be. Fine. You really think the scouts from Juilliard would have chosen you if they didn’t think your choreography was worth it? Not that that’s going to make you freak out less. It’ll probably make it worse and we all just have to deal with it until rave reviews pop up on Facebook and you send us pictures. 

Wait who’s Sebastian? 

October 16, 2008 11:52pm  
 **Ryan Evans (crowdfavorite@gmail.com)**  
To: Chad Danforth (getchaheadinthegame@gmail.com)  
Subject: “There’s Just One Little Thing That Stops Me Every Time” 

Okay, okay! You’re right. I earned this. I earned my spot here and I worked damn hard to get here. I’m just as good as any of these other dancers and I’m going to make this the best show ever. I’ll see if I can snag video of it for you when it opens. I’m already starting to map out some stuff in my head, it’s going to look really cool. 

What? He’s my boyfriend. Haven’t you checked Facebook lately? 

Ryan 

October 16, 2008 11:55pm  
 **Chad Danforth (getchaheadinthegame@gmail.com)**  
To: Ryan Evans (crowdfavorite@gmail.com)  
Subject: Re: “There’s Just One Little Thing That Stops Me Every Time” 

Sounds good. 

Going to bed. Later Evans. 


	4. Chapter 4

It’s roughly 4:30am when Ryan’s plane lands, and though his intentions had been good he finds that it’s nearly impossible to sleep when his mind would rather fixate on other things.

Things like Chad Danforth. 

Things like Chad Danforth and how he hasn’t spoken to his friend since at least the end of October. 

Things like Chad Danforth and how he hasn’t spoken to his friend since at least the end of October and how that shouldn’t really bother him but he decides that it does because prior to their last email exchange around Halloween he and Chad had been trading emails back and forth at least every two days, and if there’s one thing that Ryan likes in his life, it’s routine.

As the plane rolls on the tarmac to lead up to the terminal Ryan racks his sleepy, less drunk brain for a few hints as to why he suddenly stopped speaking to the other boy or why Chad abruptly dropped off the face of the planet.

The most likely scenario, of course, is that Chad got busy with basketball season in full swing. Ryan doesn’t know much about basketball, but he was the mascot during their senior year and by proxy has seen Chad’s skills on the court more times than he can even recall. Even before becoming the mascot he’d attended basketball games at East High School just because it was simply what was expected of the student body. He actually likes watching the game when he gets the chance but he’s never really admitted that to Sharpay. She wouldn’t understand.

The thing was that the games should have started thinning out for the Redhawks by now with only a handful left. The last time he checked the scores he saw that the team’s quickly climbing the bracket toward the playoffs, but despite that Ryan knows that the sport should not be consuming all of Chad’s time. It could be homework, but Ryan knows better than to fall into that trap, too. 

By the time the captain turns off the fasten seatbelts sign and the door to the plane opens, Ryan’s worked out that Chad Danforth is avoiding him for absolutely no reason at all. If he thinks about it for too long though he starts pinning reasons onto the other boy, starts deciding silly things like the idea that Chad’s avoiding him because of the whole “boyfriend” thing. And really, that’s pretty damn rude of him to be avoiding Ryan just because Ryan was dating a guy named after a Disney crab. 

Though it makes sense thanks to the timing of Ryan’s announcement and Chad’s disappearance, Ryan has a hard time working out the fact behind this assumption. Out of everyone he was friends with during the last year of high school, Chad was one of the few who never seemed too bothered by the fact that he was… _different._ He refuses to use the label “gay” to describe his high school self. He’s known he’s attracted to boys since the time he found himself idly wondering about Lucas Doston’s abs, but he refused to give it a name until he could experience it himself. Finding a gay boy (out or otherwise) at East was _not_ an easy task despite his excellent gaydar.

As it turned out, thinking about being gay and idly fantasizing about making out with another guy was really different than actually being gay and having sex with another guy on a too-small twin bed in the dorm one night after a heated make out session. Really, _really different._

It still shouldn’t matter though. In Ryan’s humble opinion, what he did in bed with other guys shouldn’t matter, especially not to a high school friend who lived nearly 2,000 miles away. Especially not to a high school friend who lived nearly 2,000 miles away that liked to send Ryan silly little photos of life at U of A, emailed him anecdotes about what had happened in practice that day, or sometimes texted him hilarious quotes from some of his professors (and, occasionally, Sharpay.) Especially not to a high school friend who lived nearly 2,000 miles and two time zones away that still stayed up with Ryan to talk on the phone when he had a bad class and edited papers for his Writing Seminar class. 

Okay, so maybe there was a better way to tell Chad about Sebastian, but Ryan knows he can’t change the past. It doesn’t mean he can’t be a little upset anyway. But now is not the time to think about Chad’s utter betrayal; he has a performance to prepare for as he makes his way through the nearly empty airport. As soon as he steps out onto the curb outside of the baggage claim area, Sharpay will honk the horn of her pink car and he will join her. They will go back to the sorority house and she will withhold breakfast from him until recounts the story of a heartbreak he’s not even sure he has. It isn’t long before he reaches the baggage claim area, and he almost regrets not having additional luggage to wait for. If he did, at least he could stall a bit longer. Taking a deep breath and wrapping his jacket tighter around his lithe body he steps out to the curb and looks.

And looks. And looks. There’s no sign of the pink car. There’s no sign of long blonde hair, no shrill yelling, and there’s a distinct lack of sparkles. Ryan feels the corners of his mouth start to turn down as panic inwardly rises. Had Sharpay really not figured out what he was saying? Was he really forced to figure out a new plan? 

_‘Mom and Dad are going to be furious if they have to come get me.’_

He stands alone clutching the strap of his backpack tightly, glancing up and down the street outside of the airport for any sign of his sister as the ticking from his watch rings loud in his ears. It’s 4:37am and he’s alone in Albuquerque, New Mexico, save for a beat-up red and white pickup truck parked across the street idling quite loudly. The smoke from the exhaust pipe’s visible in the chilly early morning air and the engine’s louder than the sound of the seconds passing by now that Ryan’s paying attention. He bites his lower lip, reaching into his pocket to power on his cell phone again. If Sharpay didn’t arrive in the next three minutes he would be forced to either call a cab to take to the U of A campus, or he’d have to call his mother to pick him up on her way to work. The latter option doesn’t sound too appealing if only because it’d be like a Sharpay encounter but with less shrieking. He isn’t exactly ready to tell his parents what he’s been up to at Juilliard since he left home three months ago.

It’s 4:39am as he sighs to himself, finally getting his phone to load. No missed calls. No text messages. Everything is a blank slate and he’s starting to grow more annoyed with his twin than he has felt in months. If he really had been paying attention to his surroundings, he would have noticed that the sound of the truck’s engine was drawing closer to his location. He would have noticed the fact that the beat-up vehicle had parked next to him on the curb. He would have noticed that the passenger window rolled down as someone in the cab of the truck leaned over to speak out the window.

But he doesn’t notice.

“Evans, you getting in or not?”

He doesn’t notice and it takes all of his willpower not to let out a startled yell as he suddenly looks up from the home screen of his phone and peers through the darkness into the truck.

It’s 4:40am and Chad Danforth is parked in front of him. Chad Danforth with his obscene amounts of curly hair. Chad Danforth with his self-satisfied look knowing he’s startled Ryan. Chad Danforth…that somehow knew he would be here precisely at this time and at this place. Chad couldn’t have been too fed up with him if he had taken the time to pick him up, could he? Ryan should feel embarrassed that all he can do is stare at Chad but he’s having a hard time getting his feet to move. When thirty seconds go by and Ryan doesn’t speak, Chad rolls his eyes and leans over again to open the door for him. 

“Ryan, come on.”

He doesn’t think twice after that as he throws his backpack on the floor of Chad’s truck, wordlessly slipping into the vehicle and barely shutting the door before Chad’s shifting into drive and pulling away from the airport. If Ryan didn’t know any better he would think that Chad had just woken up specifically to come and pick him up from the airport because he’d chosen to go on an impromptu early vacation. Judging by the fact that Chad’s dressed in red sweatpants and a white t-shirt while he struggles not to yawn though that seems as though that’s a very likely explanation even if it didn’t explain anything at all. It’s just another thing to add to his list of reasons why the evening stopped making sense a long time ago.

“You know, a ‘hi Chad, thanks for picking me up’ would be really appropriate right now. Where’re your manners?” Chad teases as he cuts a glance at Ryan from the corner of his eye. “But no pressure.” 

“Hi,” Ryan blurts out. “Hi, sorry. What are you doing here?” The unasked question of “where’s my sister” hangs in the air awkwardly and he bites his tongue. Chad shoots him a mildly bemused look as he changes lanes.

“I got a call from your sister about half an hour ago with pretty strict instructions to get up and come get you.”

“And…you listened?” 

“If I don’t want to hear it from _my_ sister, I kind of have to.” 

Ryan immediately knows what Chad’s talking about. 

When Sharpay first stepped onto the U of A campus she had decided that she needed a new group to take over. When she had told Ryan that she was participating in the Greek system’s Rush Week he had been surprised. 

_“You know being a sorority means you have to work with other people, right?”_

_“Not for long, Ryan. They’ll have to listen to my ideas when they realize they’re better than anyone else’s.”_

_“I don’t think that’s how it works, Shar.”_

_“Oh what do you know?”_

As it turns out, Sharpay (unfortunately) was right. The type of personality Sharpay has has always screamed “spoiled sorority girl” material and it’s no surprise that she’s quickly accepted to Alpha Chi Omega. Ryan later finds out that the sorority was founded as the first in the school of music at some university in Indiana and that the Alpha Chi Omega girls were the most popular on campus. It suits her, and after his initial reaction of laughing uncontrollably (privately, of course) he finds he’s proud of her. It’s only after her acceptance as a pledge to the sorority that he realizes that Chad’s sister, Cassidy, is the president of the sorority and has taken on the task of being Sharpay’s “big sister.” It’s a fact that was the subject of many emails between the boys but it was also a fact that Ryan hadn’t considered in terms of himself.

“Cassie said she’s holding a house meeting at, like, 8am so Sharpay needed her beauty rest,” Chad continues, doing his best not to make a face at the fact he just used “beauty” and “Sharpay” in the same sentence. Ryan looks out the window as they drive past streetlamps and little shops that are closed this early in the morning. Ryan hasn’t been home since the middle of August, but he knows that the direction they’re going isn’t the one leading to the U of A campus. He doesn’t respond to Chad immediately as he starts working out where they’re driving.

“Aren’t we going the wrong way?” he finally asks. 

“I’m up, you’re up, I’m hungry, you’re in my truck. Where do you think we’re going at 5am on a Friday morning?” 

Ryan’s mouth forms into a surprised “oh” before melting into a grin. No matter what had caused Chad to previously drop off the face of the earth, it apparently didn’t matter as much as he thought. Ryan feels some of the tension dissolve and his worries disappear as Chad turns into the nearly empty parking illuminated by the “OPEN” sign hanging in front of them.

It’s 4:53 in the morning, and all Ryan can think about is the last time they were here this early.  
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

_There are times that Ryan loathes his internal alarm clock that woke him up at 4:30 every day. The day after his high school graduation was one of those times. Despite the fact that he was awake it took him a few moments to realize that he wasn’t waking up in his four-poster bed in his room. Instead, he was waking up on the floor of Troy Bolton’s den surrounded by a bunch of sleeping Wildcats._

_The graduation party had actually been Gabriella’s idea. Like most things though, whenever Gabriella had an idea Troy went along with it whether it was a good one or not. Thankfully this had turned out to be a good idea. Ryan sat up in his sleeping bag and quietly observed the room. They had graduated from East High less than 24 hours ago and here he was surrounded by a bunch of people he loved. He thought he might be the only one to realize that after this summer he probably wouldn’t see most of these people again._

_Jason somehow had fallen asleep sitting up against the wall with his hands still wrapped around the Playstation remote. Troy and Gabriella had cuddled up on the couch under a pile of blankets, arms looped around one another. Taylor was asleep next to Martha lying perpendicular to the television set that was still turned on showing the menu for whatever silly game the others had been playing in the early hours of the morning. A short distance to his left his sister and Zeke were lying side by side facing one another, and, to his surprise, holding hands. To his right he could sense more than see Kelsi bundled up in her blankets fast asleep next to him._

_And across the room sitting up next to the couch was Chad Danforth. Ryan’s eyes widened a bit as he cocked his head, silently asking Chad why he was awake. Chad shot him a small smirk in the early morning light and motioned toward the door._

_‘Wanna go?’ His eyes asked._

_‘Where?’ Ryan’s own eyes responded._

_‘Trust me.’_

_The two boys crawled out of their respective sleeping bags and slipped into their shoes as they tiptoed up the stairs to the main level of the Bolton home. Chad reached over to the dish Troy kept his keys in and jingled them at Ryan. The blond only raised his eyebrows in response. The pair unlocked the front door and sneaked out, crawling into Troy’s truck with Chad behind the wheel._

_“Where are we going?” Ryan asked as he buckled his seatbelt. Chad didn’t respond until they pulled away from Troy’s house._

_“You’re going to like it. Trust me.”_

_Roughly half an hour later when Ryan was busy biting into the most delicious strawberry waffles he’d ever had in his life, he agreed. He definitely liked this. Chad was busying himself with his ham and cheese omelet when he chose to ask the question._

_“When are you and Kelsi leaving for Juilliard?”_

_“…middle of August,” Ryan replied. He took another bite to avoid elaborating. Chad hummed to himself as he nodded. It seemed as though Ryan wasn’t the only one who realized what this summer meant._

_“You know if you don’t check in your sister will kill you, right?”_

_“And what’s that got to do with you?” Ryan couldn’t help but laugh. To his pleasant surprise, Chad looked almost embarrassed._

_“I mean we’re going to the same school. I could get all of my updates from her about how you’re kicking everyone’s ass on the dance floor, but I’d rather hear it from you.”_

_“Chad Danforth, is this your way of asking me to stay in touch?” Ryan batted his eyelashes playfully. Chad kicked him under the table._

_“Hey man, I’ve been giving the same speech to everybody else.” It was Ryan’s turn to kick him under the table._

_“You could have just asked me at Troy’s. You didn’t have to bribe me with waffles.”_

_“Could have, didn’t want to.” Another kick. A beat. “We haven’t hung out much this year outside of musical stuff. It’s crazy but I think maybe I missed you. A little.”_

_It was an admission that Ryan had never pictured would come and he was left staring openly at the other boy. Chad prodded his foot with the toe of his sneaker. “Hey, if the feeling’s not mutual it’s cool. It’s just that we were starting to have fun last summer and then—you know, if Kelsi hadn’t signed all of us up for the musical we probably would have gone the whole school year without really doing anything together.”_

_“No,” Ryan said hurriedly. It surprised him to find that Chad’s words resonated with him and there was a small pull in his gut as he realized he had been missing hanging out with the other Wildcats, too. The summer at Lava Springs gave him a taste of what it was like to fit in with his peers and to have friends that WEREN’T his sister. It was…nice. It was nice, and now he had to leave in a few months and start all over. He wasn’t looking forward to that part of it, but Kelsi would be with him. And now there would be Chad. It was a concept that perplexed Ryan slightly but he wasn’t going to let it slip past him. “No, the feeling’s totally mutual. But don’t you think it’s going to be a little hard to always stay in touch? We’re both going to have practices and homework and new people and—“_

_“And we’re gonna make it work,” Chad cut in with ease, fixing Ryan with a slightly annoyed look._

_“…and we’re gonna make it work,” he repeated. Chad seemed satisfied with that answer and reached over, plucking a strawberry off of one of Ryan’s waffles before launching into a discussion about the Redhawks training season. He hadn’t even noticed that two hours had passed until Chad’s cell phone rang, and even though he could hear the tinny voice of Troy Bolton yelling through the phone, the smile on his face told Ryan that Chad didn’t regret the decision at all._


	5. Chapter 5

A lot of things can change in the span of a few months. Five months later they order coffee instead of orange juice, though they both order their same breakfasts. Ryan pretends not to notice how intently Chad’s watching him put half-and-half and organic sweetner into his mug. He can feel the table move slightly as Chad bounces his leg. He doesn’t think to address the basketball player until he’s stirred the mixture into his coffee. Chad beats him to the punch though.

“So,” he starts out and Ryan cringes. The “so” sounds awkward coming from Chad and he has a feeling he knows exactly where this conversation is going. 

“So, how much did Sharpay tell you when she called you this morning?” he asks. 

“Does it matter?” 

“A little.”

“How much are you going to lie to me?” 

“Wha—I never said I was going to lie to you.” Ryan knows they’re both thinking about the same thing. He knows they’re both thinking about the way that Ryan never actually told Chad about Sebastian in the first place, and now here they were sitting across the table from each other in one of the only 24-hour diners in Albuquerque about to talk about the fact that Ryan no longer had said-boyfriend. Chad rolls his eyes and takes a drink from his coffee, watching Ryan over the rim of the mug as he patiently waits.

“All she mentioned was that Crab-Boy broke up with you,” he finally says. Ryan laughs under his breath at the nickname.

“She’s really convinced that I’m torn up about this, isn’t she?” He asks rhetorically. He imagines how that conversation went, Sharpay hissing specific instructions into Chad’s ear as he lays in the dark trying to understand why the older Evans twin was calling him at 4am. 

_‘Go pick up my brother. Don’t make him cry. Don’t push him too much. Don’t let him drown himself in ice cream. Don’t ask a lot of questions.’_

He can only guess what else Sharpay might have said to Chad, but Chad doesn’t appear too surprised to see Ryan at all, which is the strange part. Moreso, he doesn’t seem too surprised to see that Ryan’s not as heartbroken as he’s supposed to be. Their waitress returns to the table with their food and Ryan pauses long enough to drench his waffles in syrup.

“I broke up with him,” he continues. “Sebastian and I just…weren’t working out.”

“So you broke up with him and felt the undying urge to catch a plane back here first thing even though you still have three days of classes?” The tone tells Ryan that Chad isn’t buying it any more than his sister would.

“I’m not missing much.”

“You’re running away.”

“Excuse me?” 

Chad calmly looks up from his eggs, hardly looking apologetic which Ryan found to be incredibly rude. If you’re going to go around speaking lies and blasphemy, the least you can do is apologize. “I don’t know what happened, but you left for a reason. You weren’t planning on being here until Wednesday, so yeah, I’d call that running away.” 

That’s all he says on the matter. Ryan blinks at him from across the table, fork hovering halfway to his mouth. Chad isn’t asking the dreaded question. Chad isn’t even looking at him anymore, focused more on the bits of ham and cheese mixed with his eggs. He almost wants to scream at the curly-haired boy. He almost wants to ask the question himself just to have the satisfaction of saying that there was nothing wrong and he wasn’t running away. However, there’s no sense in Ryan agreeing with him (especially when it isn’t true in the first place) and he resumes eating. 

He pretends that the silence doesn’t bother him, just like Chad pretends that Ryan doesn’t pick up the bill without another word.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Your sister said to call her at 10 to meet up with her,” Chad explains as they climb the stairs to his dorm room. It’s 6:14am and the hallways are just as silent as the drive back to campus had been. Chad’s floormates are either gone or asleep. Ryan doesn’t think much on it as he follows Chad to the third-to-last room on the right. Fishing his room keys out of the pockets of his sweatpants, Chad unlocks the door and Ryan follows him through the threshold. “I forgot I have to meet the guys at the gym at 7 for an early morning workout, but I guess you can stay here until then? Sean’s already gone for the weekend so you can crash for a few hours without anybody really interrupting you. You look like you’re going to fall asleep standing up.”

Which is funny, considering the fact that Ryan doesn’t feel the slightest bit sleepy. His eyes itch and he knows that dark circles are going to form under them soon, but he’s otherwise wide awake.

“Oh, thanks,” he says lightly and instead allows his eyes to wander the walls of Chad’s room. Chad had mentioned to him in an email that it was one of the larger doubles, but Ryan’s not sure he and Chad agree on what “larger” really means. It looks like a standard dorm to him, bunk beds pushed up against a wall and the two desks pushed together to form one large table. There’s a sink on the wall with Chad’s toothbrush perched in a cup and two closets flanking the sink. The mini-fridge in the room hums quietly from its position under the window and next to the large heater. The walls, unlike Ryan’s room at Juilliard, are covered in basketball paraphernalia and it’s almost hilarious seeing how all of the Redhawks posters and calendars feature Chad’s own face. He bites back a grin as he glances at the beds, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“The bottom bunk’s mine, just make yourself comfortable.” Chad seems distracted as he opens the middle drawer of a dresser pushed against the wall by the door. Ryan watches as Chad fishes out a pair of shorts and a clean sleeveless t-shirt. He gingerly places his backpack at the foot of the bed and sits on the edge, opting to leave his shoes and his hat on. He’s not entirely sure he’s going to stay in Chad’s room as soon as Chad leaves. He lays on his back with his feet planted firmly on the floor and as he stares at the bottom of the bed above him he hears Chad rummaging around the room and stuffing things into a duffel bag and his own backpack.

“I’ve got a 9:30 class so I won’t be back by the time you meet up with Sharpay,” Chad explains. “You’ve got my number still, right? Call me if you wanna meet up while you’re still here.” 

Ryan doesn’t bother to mention that not only does he still have Chad’s number, but he has him saved in his contacts as “Wildcat <3.” He had jokingly changed the name months ago to match “Sharpay <3” and “Kelsi <3” but now it seemed a little silly. At the time it had made the most sense. Everyone who was important had a heart next to their name. 

He tries not to think about the fact that Sebastian didn’t have a heart next to him at any point during their relationship. 

“Sure,” he says more to the bunk bed above him than to Chad. “It depends on what Sharpay and I are doing but we’re all going home in a few days. Troy’s still having that get-together next week, right?” 

“Oh so you _do_ remember that.” The closet door opens and closes. If Ryan turns his head slightly he can see a white hooded sweater being pulled over the ridiculous mass of hair. “Yeah, we’re still on.” Grabbing both of his bags, Chad leans against the post of the bunk beds to peer down into Ryan’s face. A wry grin stretches across his face, but before Ryan can ask what that’s all about Chad pulls back and jogs across the room to the door. “I’ll see you later.”

And just like that, Chad Danforth’s gone and Ryan’s left alone in his room. 

_‘At least I ended up in someone’s bed.’_ He snorts quietly, stretching his limbs out across the mattress. The silence in the room perturbs him even as he lies still with his hat blocking the morning sunshine streaming in through the window. He’s definitely not sleeping anytime soon, not with the way his thoughts are racing through his head. 

The problem with silence is that it allows more room for Ryan’s thoughts to grow and take over. While he’s never short of good ideas and a majority of his thoughts lie in his class work and choreography these days, there are times other thoughts worm their way forward. He reaches down and wriggles his hips a bit, working his iPhone out of the pocket of his skinny jeans. Without looking at the screen and without removing the hat from his face, he navigates through the phone’s menus to the music saved on the device. He’s not even sure what he’s looking for, and after a small amount of thought he just hits the play button and drops the device on the mattress next to him, drowning in the sound.

_“No sir, well I don’t wanna be the blame, not anymore. It’s your turn, so take a seat we’re settling the final score. And why do we like to hurt so much? I can’t decide…”_


End file.
